


Too Late

by Etienne_Lennon



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Angst, Antarctica, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:01:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etienne_Lennon/pseuds/Etienne_Lennon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remy is back from Antarctica, but he is far from being well. Logan doesn't know what to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> My very first post here. Constructive criticism is very welcome. Flaming not so much :-)
> 
> Disclaimer: Characters and settings are not mine.

Winter is drawing near. I can feel it in my bones. There may still be some leaves on the trees but they have shriveled into brown parodies of themselves. Smells have slowly vanished from the air and a whiteness that is not yet snow but will bear snow soon enough is covering the world. 

I add to the snow with the smoke curling from my cigar in long, complicated spirals. I look after them and wonder how I deserve this moment of peace in the middle of a world that has broken apart. 

Nothing is the same. Summer has gone and so has he. What's left is the air of selfrightousnes hanging over the mansion and the shell of something that has been.

Truth be told, I miss him. I never thought I would. Even when I thought he was dead I didn't miss him as much as I do now when he is back- broken and empty.

I am not one for regrets. My life has been too long and too complicated. If I would hang on to every wrong turn on the road and obsess about it I'd soon be a stammering idiot chopping his own head off. No. Regret is not my style. And yet the thought did cross my mind – would they have done it if I had been there? Would they have left Remy LeBeau, Gambit, in the white wastelands of Antarctica – to freeze, to starve, to die for a crime that he had been taking part in – but only until realizing the consequences? I like to think that I would have tried to stop them. But maybe I wouldn't have cared. He has always been a pain in the ass for me. The Cajun with the attitude. While he was gone it was easy not to think about him. To ignore the empty room on my floor, to ignore the dust slowly covering his beloved motorcycle, faithful companion to my own. Only when he returned did these things start to matter. A room that vaguely smells like him – cigarettes, southern comfort and spice – but where everything is always neatly tugged away and even my sharp hearing can barely make out any sounds. I don't think he has slept in there since he returned. 

I have recently started cleaning his bike along with mine. Because the fact that he doesn't do it drives me insane. 

He should have been dead. Why survive if he doesn't live? 

I look over the lake again and notice small ripples disturbing the calm surface. When I focus my attention I see an auburn haired head pierce the surface. I would have never thought the Cajun was into swimming, especially not in water as cold as this. But then again, what had I ever known about him. He must have jumped into the water from the other side of the lake and is now swimming in my direction with strong, deliberate strokes. It is the most active I have seen him since he has come back. 

I just sit there and wait for him to come closer. When finally he gets out of the water he shakes his head slightly, letting small droplets of water fall to the ground. Seeing his naked upper body I can't help but let out a small hiss. Gambit had always been lean. But now he is obviously underfed, skin hanging on bones and wasted muscles. I have to wonder how he has managed the long swim at all.

The sound I have made betrays my presence and he looks in my direction with a sudden jerk of the head and feeling the eerie black and red eyes on my face I feel like an unwelcome visitor.

„What do y'a want, ami?“ The question is simple enough, as is my answer. „Peace and quiet. Didn't think I would run into you.“ „Je comprends“. He replies and I start getting annoyed with him just like in the old days when I see the odd shivers run down his body. „Y'are freezing.“ I observe, taking my time to light another cigar. He gives the ghost of a smile, which has nothing to with the charming curl of his lips that I remember from before. This time, it is bitter with a hint of sadness. „Non. Gambit's not freezing. Gambit froze a long time ago and now everything is always cold.“ He says. His irritating habit of speaking of himself in the third person makes me irrationally angry, so I snap back „I see.- so now the swamp rat decided it's a good idea to go swimming at the end of november.“ He doesn't reply anything, just walks away to the boat house where I suspect he has been staying ever since his return.

I shake my head, focusing on my cigar again. 

Only later I realize I have never again seen him wear his trademark coat and wonder whether I should have offered him my own jacket.

To late now. I think. Too late. 

FIN


End file.
